


Rest Your Eyes

by Darcyshire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I AM SORRY, I am a despicable person, M/M, SO SORRY, Shootings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darcyshire/pseuds/Darcyshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were too late. Grantaire always knew that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little thing I wrote the other night. No beta'd, all mistakes are mine

“Wait – NO!”

“Enjolras!”

A deafening crack filled the air, pain following only seconds behind. A yelp of pain barely passed his lips as intense waves of pain blossomed through his chest. He gasped painfully, throat constricting as his knees buckled under him.

_“Oh my god!”_

_“Someone catch him!”_

_“Call an ambulance!”_

_“Someone catch that man!”_

_“Enjolras!”_

 

A pair of strong arms caught him, the body behind falling with him in time and laying him gently across their knees. People were all around, shrieks of horror and terror piercing the air as they caught a glimpse of their leader. Enjolras could only gasp, black dots dancing in his line of vision as his eyes rolled skyward.

“Enjolras, Enjolras you stay with me.” A shaky voice urged, cold, trembling hands placing themselves on either side of his face. “It’s ok, look at me.” The voice begged, gently shaking him.

Enjolras’ eyes snapped open, shallow breath catching as worried blue eyes filled his line of sight.

_Grantaire._

“That’s right, keep ‘em open for me.”

Enjolras nodded – or at least tried – numbly, eyes never leaving Grantaire face as he chuckled weakly, looking him over.

“You always liked the color red.” He said, sniffling. “This is quite a fashion statement.” Tears swam in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he held Enjolras. He now had one hand pressed to the wound, trying his best to staunch whatever bleeding he could. Scarlett rivers flowed freely over his hand, staining his pale fingers.

“Grantaire…” Enjolras murmured, voice slurring. His mind was drawing blank, vision growing fuzzy once more as a gentle warmth began to overwhelm him, beckoning him into its grasp. He let himself go willingly, eyes falling shut with a painful sigh of relief only to be jolted awake once more by Grantaire.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” he snapped, giving Enjolras a harsh shake. “Don’t you dare give up, keep fighting! Fight with all you’ve got, please!” Grantaire was begging now, voice thick as he held the Revolutionary leader.

“Can’t…” Enjolras gave a wheezy cough, a dull throbbing pain in his chest making him wince, head rolling back against the man’s knees. “Can’t, Taire…I’m sorry.”

“Just do it for me, please.” Grantaire whispered, pressing his hand harder down over his wound. “Just, give it all you’ve got until there’s no more. Can you do that for me?” He asked, looking down on him lovingly. His beautiful face was marred with a look of pain, eyes shut tight as he writhed in agony. He looked nothing more than a fallen angel, his hair crowning him like a halo. “Come on Angel, you can do it, I know you can.”

The distant wails of an ambulance met their ears, giving Grantaire a small spark of hope. False hope. He knew this ending. He knew these wounds and he knew that he was seconds away from losing the love of his life. It was over.

“Please, keep fighting just a little bit longer,” he pleaded, holding the man close as small sobs wracked his body. “Please, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” He whispered, tears rolling down his face as he clutched him. Enjolras’ right hand weakly gripped Grantaire’s, holding him close with every ounce of strength he had left. He could feel his life ebbing away, bleeding out of him through his wound.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, coughing weakly.

Grantaire let out a small, pitiful laugh. “Why apologize for something that wasn’t your fault?”

“Because I’m leaving you.”

Grantaire frowned, shaking his head. “It’s going to be ok.” A small sob rose in the back of his throat and he stifled it, pressing his forehead against Enjolras’, shutting his eyes, a look of determination painting his features for a fraction of a second before being replaced with grief.

“Taire,” Enjolras whispered. “I’m scared.”

A whimper escaped Grantaire at that, fresh tears finding their way to the surface as he cradled his angel.

“Just close your eyes, Enj.” He murmured gently, voice cracking. “I’ll be here when you wake. I promise.” His voice broke on the last words. “Just go on, rest your eyes.”

The sirens where louder now, drowning almost everything out as the ambulance drew nearer. Yet it was too late. It had always been too late. Enjolras let out a small sigh, nodding.

“Taire?” his lips barely moved. “I love you.”

Grantaire nodded, sniffling. “I love you too, Enj. So much.”

Enjolras smiled weakly at that, eyes slipping shut. Grantaire held him as his last breath faded to nothing and his hand went lax, falling from Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire simply held him, sobs wracking his body as he rocked him back and forth, face buried in his neck.

 _“I love you.”_ He whispered one last time. If this were a fairy tail, Enjolras would come back. But it wasn’t a fairytale and it wasn’t a dream. Enjolras was gone forever and there was nothing he could do.

The paramedics took him away on a stretcher, leaving him empty and alone, staring blankly at the spot where Enjolras had once lay. His hands were stained red with the blood of their fiery leader. It was a vision Grantaire would never truly forget.

Onlookers were weeping now. Weeping for their fallen leader. One that no one would be able to match now that he had passed. Courferyac held Jehan close, letting the man cling to him as they wept. Joly was making no attempt at being quiet, whimpering as burying his face in his hands. Fueilly didn’t look up from the ground, face pinched and hard as Bahorel wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close.

It wasn’t until Combeferre wrapped his arms around him did he realize he was crying again. He didn’t move, just let himself lean into the warm touch, burying his face in his friend’s neck as he began to shake. Combeferre held him, chest shaking with his own grief, a hand coming to rest on the back of Grantaire’s neck as he pulled him close.

The only sound that could be heard was the sound of Grantaire weeping. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at Official-Enjolras.tumblr.com


End file.
